Yesterday, the KSK staff discovered that a disproportionate amount of us have met Bears QB Jay Cutler*. We thought that it might be fun to collect them all and share them with you. Keep in mind, these are all true**, actual*** accounts of us sports blogger types meeting an NFL quarterback****.

*none of us have met Jay Cutler
**these stories might not be true
***or actual
****nope

First, I’d like to tell my story.

RobotsFightingDinosaurs:

I work at a bar on Tuesdays in Chicago, hosting trivia (it’s called Friar Tuck. Come see me sometime, and I’ll buy you a shot). Jay Cutler and Brandon Marshall came in and sat in the back. They were pretty personable, and signed autographs for the people who wanted them. Midway through the night, Jay took out a cigarette and started smoking in the bar. This is illegal in Chicago, and despite my Bears fandom, I had to go over to him and ask him to please either step outside to finish the cigarette or put it out. Cutler looked at Marshall, shrugged, and put the cigarette out on my forehead. Then, he walked out of the bar without paying for all the drinks he had ordered over the course of the night. Brandon Marshall ended up picking up his tab, and to his credit, did give us a pretty substantial tip.

StuScottsBooyahs:

One time, my wife of 11 years and I were at a bar in downtown Chicago one evening and, wouldn’t you know it, ol Jay Cutler himself saunters in with that Cavallari chick or whatever. He immediately makes eye contact with me and my wife, and I just about die. I mean, I love the Bears. I’m like, shaking as he walks up to our table. I open my mouth to say ‘Hi Jay how–‘ and he IMMEDIATELY put his hand in my face, and holds it there and starts talking to my wife. “Hey, wanna have sex right on this table right in front of your dipshit husband?” She said “Sure” and they went at it like a couple of rabid wolverines for 20 minutes while the whole bar watched. He finally took his hand out of my face, slapped Cavallari on the ass, and said ‘It’s time to go baby.’ To this day, my wife still yells out Jay Cutler’s name during sex.

Christmas Ape:

I saw Cutler next to a Bears fan choking in a bar while also wearing his jersey but he couldn’t care less. He sat there doing shots and telling stories about his best touchdown passes even though the other patrons were clearly more worried about the man choking. The man eventually died. When he left, Cutler grabbed the jersey off the body and said, “Hey, it’s mine. It has my name on it.”

Sarah Sprague:

I was heading into the Marc Jacobs store on Melrose when I saw Kristin Cavallari across the street heading into the other (fancier) Marc Jacobs store. Rolled my eyes, thought ‘fucking anti-vaxxer wackjob’ and went back to looking for a cross-body purse to replace the one that had broken when its strap got caught on my car’s gear shift over the weekend. My luck didn’t hold out long because about ten minutes later Wackjob showed up with surprisingly, Jay Cutler in tow. How had I not seen him before? Big guy, sort of hard to miss.

Of course now every sales person is over helping them and the rest of are totally screwed for help so I decide to just look at laptop cases worth more than my computer to kill time until they leave because Wackjob doesn’t appear to be seriously shopping, she’s just visiting the sales people to say, “HIIIIIII! HOW ARE YOU? OH MY GOD I HAVEN’T SEE YOU IN FOREVER. YOUR HAIR LOOKS GREAT. LOVE THE NEW CUT. YOU JUST LOOK SO RADIANT.” Of course the only sales people that treat me this way are the Gelson’s checkout cashiers, but whatever. I’ll take it.

Catler — it’s impossible for me to think of him as anything else thanks to this site — looks totally bored staring at the men’s section. Can’t blame him. Marc by Marc Jacobs for men is pretty Eurotrashtasic, even for bros like him. Wackjob on the other hand wants to play with her sales friends and Jay is about to be her Ken doll to play dress up with. A leopard print kangol-style hat. She holds up this orange-pink flowery hoodie to him. When she reaches for the rattlesnake skin baseball cap with the flat brim I have to choke back a laugh.

The entire store heard me. The stock boys in the back hear me and come out to see why the store is suddenly dead silent. My entire body is flush with embarrassment and I am frozen in place next to the sunglasses display case. I can by the look of fear in the sales clerk closest to me, I have to leave. Fast. The pleb with unbrushed hair, no makeup in a ten year-old Brooks Brothers blouse, torn jeans and flip-flops was no longer welcome. It felt like hours before my feet finally got the message from my brain that we had to move to the door and if we could possibly not trip on something like we usually do, that would be fucking great because if we do trip AND some one yells at me at same time TMZ is right outside to get it on all tape.

But of course I cannot help myself. I have to make an ass of myself in public because that’s what I do either inadvertently or advertently. I get to the exit, feeling every eye upon me and turn to push the door open with my hip. “DDDDOOOOOOOONNNNNNN’TTTTTTTT CAAAAAAAARRRRREEEE” leaves my mouth before I can stop myself and then run as fast as I can across the four lanes of Melrose not even looking if there is traffic and fling myself into the safety of the Diane von Furstenberg shop. Grab the nearest dress and stride into the changing room out of breath.

What it’s worth, I’m still looking for a replacement purse.

Trevor Risk:

Back in June, Cutler was in Vancouver because he lost a bet with Trestman. Something about how many Marlboro reds he could smoke in an hour. Anyway, Cutler lost and had to visit a Canadian city and watch a CFL game in its entirety, and Cutler chose the Lions because he heard Vancouver had ‘some top notch gash’. They just changed a few of the archaic liquor laws in my province, so now children can come into gastropubs during day time hours, as long as they don’t sit at the bar. Waiting for the game to start, the Cutlers and their children are all eating fish in this one bar, and for some reason we now have a rubella problem throughout all of Canada.

David Rappoccio:

I was stranded in Chicago one night due to inclement weather cancelling my flight. I made the most of it and hung out in some bars watching the Cubs lose. I stepped into the back to use the restroom at one point, and it was a big restroom with 5 urinals. I took the far one, alone in the room. Jay Cutler walks in and takes the one right next to me. He glances over at me and snorts. I decide to break the awkwardness by asking for an autograph, he proceeds to turn his body and writes “Jay C” on my pants leg in urine. He gives me a pat on the back “there ya go, buddy” and walks away without even zipping back up. At the door he stopped, looked down, and pulled a soggy box of smokes out of the trash can. He pulled out a lighter with a cartoon vagina on it, gave me one more snort, and left.

When I got back to the bar the girl I was chatting up was smoking a cigarette and said “Jay Cutler shared it with me”

Apparently, a few of our Kommenters have their own Cutler stories as well.

Beastmode Ate My Baby:

It was during the war that I knew Jay Cutler. Ruddy good chap he was, if a bit standoffish. While the other men were celebrating returning home from patrol with a song and a pint, he would be sitting by himself at a table. Sometimes he would be rolling a small ball back and forth, humming softly to himself.

Well, not a hum, really. More throaty than that, I’d say. More like a pur…

What’s that? Our last mission together? Crikey, that was a long time ago, but devil take me if I don’t remember it like it was yesterday. We’d had word that the Huns were on the move, so Jay and I took to our Sopwith Camels and patrolled the front. Wouldn’t you know it, we ran right into a full squadron of German planes, led by Goering himself! I thought we were buggered right then & there, but old Jay just flipped his Camel about in an Immelman and started firing away. One of the Fokkers split apart instantly, and Jay went after another, stalking it like a cat after a particularly fat mouse. That poor bugger didn’t last long either, and Goering, with a shriek I’ll never forget, turned about and fled back home to Jerryland. I was on the last Fokker, and doing a good job of it, I’ll have you know, when Jay came streaking down from above, Vickers guns chattering away as he made his third kill of the day. A bit gobsmacked, I was, and I don’t mind telling you!

Well, I gave old Jay a wave and started back toward the base when the blighter opened up on me! I thought the old man had gone right barmy! I twisted my plane left and right, but he stayed right on me.

“Jay,” I cried out. “We’re on the same side, old chap!”

As he closed on me, his machine guns were silent for a split second, and in that time I heard his voice clear as day. I still hear it sometimes, in my nightmares. Two words was all…two words that still wake me up shivering in fear.

“DOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNN’TTTTTTTT CCCAAAAAAARRRRREEEE!!!!!

Old School Zero:

I’ve never told this Jay Cutler story of mine before, but I just don’t want it to happen to anyone else.

Back when I was young, I really wanted to be a star. I heard about this acting gig that was supposedly a big payday that was always performed for the bigwigs in the industry. Well, I went to audition, and somehow I was the only one there. The guy in charge, this old guy, he asked if I could sing. So I sang him “I am the very model of a modern major general”, all the way through. He asked if I could act. I did all of Hamlets soliloquies. He asked if I could dance. I did this fantastic mix of dance styles to show my range.

Then he asked if I could suck a cock. I could tell he was serious.

I mean, it was the chance of a lifetime, right?

I showed him what I could do.

Then he asked if I could do other things.

And I did them. All of them. No matter what he requested.

I got the part. I went back home, bruised and at a new low, but knowing that I had a great future ahead of me, even at that cost.

A little while later, after learning the ins and outs of the show, it was time for the first performance. I had a full room, full of power players and stars. I was about a third of the way through, right into the felching-the-mime bit, when I catch this strong whiff of cigarette smoke and there’s this lackadaisical face in front of me, and after blowing smoke in my face, Jay Cutler looked into my eyes and screamed:

Join The Discussion

There was that time in February, 2015. I ran into Mr. Cutler shortly after he won the Super Bowl MVP in leading the Bears to a shutout victory. Super chill guy. We chatted for a few minutes, he signed a pack of Marlboro Reds for me, and then introduced me to Jennifer Lawrence, who promptly invited me to her place where she gave me a topless backrub as I used her credit card to pay off my student loans.

i was visiting chicago conducting focus groups. i saw him walking down the street. i wasn’t sure it was him so i followed him for a few blocks. he goes into a bar and i’m still not sure if it was really him. i follow into the bar and you wouldn’t believe it! a fucking gay bar!! no. fucking. shit. true story.

Aparently this site is in cohoots with the lamestream media and doesnt want this true story to be told but you can’t stop the truth any more than Rogger Goodelll can stop Ray Rice from reaching out and touching somebody and so I’m gonna post it ahgain here. OK? OK

So my niece is in school at this real liberal college right now, and she was taking this class with a ACLU professor who teaches Stalin Studies or some queer shit, and this professor stands up — you know, probably wiping his little latte foam out of his queerbait little Che beard — and says that God is a faggot and anyone who thinks different is worse than Hitler and that he hates the flag and he eats the flag at night and when he poops out the flag later he wipes his ass with another flag and then wraps it up with a yellow ribbon and mails it off to the army. ANYWAY this professor of America hating stands up an says God isn’t real and heaven isn’t real but that’s not true because I saw a movie about it and the movie was based on a book and the Bible’s a book and we all know that’s true but he says it anyway and then this big Marine named Todd stands up at the back of the room and he whips out this sweet AR-15 with a rocket launcher and a grenade thing on it and he looks this professor hippie fag right in the queer eyes and he’s just about to lay into him like Hannity does with those America haters on his show when Jay Cutler wakes up in the back row and yells “doooooooon’t caaaaaaare.”

I’m right gutted you think so, old man! Why, in my younger days I would box your ears for such a thing! That’s what I get for wallowing in such a dodgy site, I suppose.

Now, now, I’m just taking a piss, here. What say we head over to “Sexy Friday,” mate, and see if Ape’s found some tidy lookers to have a butchers at. After that it’s off to the pub for a pint or three. Maybe we’ll get arseholed and go on the pull, eh?

I’ll never forget the time that I met Jay Cutler. I was on the roof of the Chicago Hilton trying to arrest Dr. Charles Tillman but Jay was so mad bro and he kept beating the shit out of Peanut. They fell down an elevator shaft which may have led to CTE down the road. Not sure, they are the doctors. The elevator stopped on the laundry floor so me and the guy from The Sopranos that was a douche bag followed them. I was yelling really loud about how it wasn’t Jay’s fault that he was a bitch in that one NFC title game. Peanut Tillman tried to shoot me when my back was turned like a jerk. Cutler saved me via lead pipe. We had a good LOL. The janitor from Scrubs died at some point which was sad. We had some Fancy Feast back at the station.

I was visiting Chicago last summer and stopped into Dick’s Last Resort for a few brewskis. They had these two guys on stage taking requests to play acoustic covers of almost anything. Then Jay Cutler walks in and sits down a couple of tables over from me. From the second he had his first sip of beer, he starts screaming out his request, which is “Stranglehold” by Ted Nugent. Everyone is thinking, “you can’t play Stranglehold with acoustic guitars,” but Cutler didn’t care. After every song, the screams of “STRANGLEHOLD! GODDAMN IT PLAY STRANGLEHOLD!” kept coming. So finally, the two musicians did it. And it was fucking great too! They did all the solos and hit all the high notes and everything. At the end of the song, everyone in the room is giving them a standing ovation. Everyone except for Cutler that is. Once the applause died down, he stood up, threw his beer bottle at the guitar players and said “That fuckin sucked. THANKS FOR NOTHING SHITHEADS!” Then he walked out without paying his bill.

Sure I met Jay Cutler. It was the an unusually cold spring day in Chicago. I was eating at Hackney’s on Harms not to be confused with Hecky’s BBQ. Bill Fridge Perry ate 20 lbs of baby back ribs there, spicy of course, it wasn’t even a dare it was a Tuesday. Tuesday is a funny name for a day I mean I guess it makes sense that its the second day of the week but why isn’t it spelled Twosday? Anyways thats how I started eating at Taco Bell.

I was having dinner with my lovely lady at Carmine’s one evening. This couple walks by my table on their way out of the place. As they pass the table, the guy rips this obnoxiously loud fart. I instinctively say, “Hey, what the hell, man?” The guy glances back at me and says, “Dude, don’t be a whiny bitch.” As my mind is processing the fact that Catler has just cropdusted my table, a smell that I can only imagine is ten times worse than Sex Panther overwhelms my senses. I look back at Catler as he’s about to leave the restaurant to realize he’s been flipping me the bird behind his head ever since his comment. He walks out, and the smell is so bad by this point that every table in a 20 foot radius is exiting stage left. Diabeetus must wreak holy hell on his digestive system. Can’t imagine the guy’s litter box at home.

When I lived in Chicago, I used to work for a company that did high-end lighting installations. We got a job out in Kenilworth one time – some pendant lights for a rec room – and based on location and the paperwork I realized it was Jay Cutler’s house. One of Kristin’s assistants had made all the arrangements, so I didn’t expect to interact with Jay at all. I was very surprised when he answered the door and turned out to be the only one around. The “rec room” turned out to be a huge expanse on the lower floor that included a wet bar and enough seating for about twenty people; I was working on the lights above the pool table.
Jay was in sweats and was pretty brusque with me when he let me in; he was clearly not thrilled about having to babysit me during the installation (I believe the word “whatever” was used several times when I explained what I’d be doing). He sprawled out on the couch and watched a baseball game while I worked, occasionally letting out a huge sigh and glaring at me when I made too much noise. From my perch on my stepladder, I tried to make a bit of small talk; asking him who the sleepers were among the Bears’ rookies, those sorts of questions, but the only answers I got from him were occasional disinterested grunts until he finally lost patience and groaned audibly and asked “how long is this going to take, again?”
It wasn’t until I had finished all the electrical work and was just doing some touch-up work on the plaster that I felt a bump against my leg.
“Hey,” Jay said, turning on the charm.
I glanced down at the can of spackle and the putty knife I’d been scraping against the inside edge.
“Whatcha got there?”